Freedom House
by KateWritesStuff
Summary: What do you do when your entire world is taken over? The story of Carrie and how her life changes as the Souls invade her home.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Okay, so here's my first ever "Host" Fanfic. Sorry for all the hard-core fans out there, but this story doesn't contain any of Meyer's original characters (though I may add one or two of them in passing). I really wanted to create a story from a human's point of view from when the Souls invaded Earth and this was the result of it. I apologise if the first few chapters are a little slow but I need to give the characters a back story before anything huge happens.**

**I do have sort of a plan for where this story is going but some suggestions on where this story could go would be fantastic. Hope you enjoy :)**

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><p><strong>Chapter 1 – Farmgirl<strong>

"And after you've finished mucking out the stables, you can grab a quick bite of lunch before you come back out and help e fix this fence." My mother droned on with the endless list of tasks had to do as punishment.

It's not even like I did anything horrendously bad anyway. All _I_ did was break curfew because my stupid, ancient truck broke down on one of the numerous bumpy lanes you had to take to get to the farmhouse.

Yet Mom was acting like I'd robbed a shop, skipped school _and_ broken my curfew all at once. Life was so unfair.

"Caroline, are you listening to me?" she snapped her fingers in front of my face then crossed her arms once she'd got my attention. "What was the last thing I said to you?"

I knew she was irritated now; she only called me Caroline when she was cross.

Yet the natural teenager within me was too hard to reel in before the sarky comment left my lips:

"Caroline are you listening to me." I replied innocently. Her cheeks turned pink and she gave me a death look before her lips turned up in a slightly smug smile.

"Have it your way Carrie. Once you've fed the pigs, cleaned the stables _and_ helped me fix the fence, you can take that pie over to Mrs Fogg's." She gave me a parting smile and walked into the house.

Now _that_ was below the belt.

Mrs Fogg lived in a farmhouse, about a mile away from ours. She didn't get out much, so when she had visitors, she'd suck as much conversation out of them as she could before reluctantly letting them stumble home. It'd be _hours_ before I would get out.

Groaning quietly to myself, I stuck my hands deep in my overalls and headed towards the pig sties. There was my Sunday down the toilet, I'd planned to spend it shopping with Lydia but evidently my plans were changed.

"I'll see you next week, Mrs Fogg." I called from the front door. I'd told her not to see me out. Undoubtedly she'd find another reason for me to stay. I'd already changed nearly all the light bulbs in the house because she thought they were dulling. Closing the door behind me I walked through the grass towards my truck. A hand-me-down passing from my eldest brother Liam – who was now in college – then to my seventeen year old brother Chris who had since then bought an old Ford which ran far better than my this piece of junk. Being the youngest in the family was difficult.

However, I understood why my parents chose to live here in the beautiful raw countryside of Ohio instead of the dirty, sprawling city. The air was so peaceful and quiet; you could walk for miles out here and still be struck by the beauty of the horizon. No matter how much I complained about this place, it was home and I loved it.

By the time I got back to the farmhouse, I was famished. Sure, Mrs Fogg's cucumber sandwiches and jam tarts were tasty but weren't really that filling after a hard day on the farm.

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><p>"Finished all your jobs?" asked Mom before serving me a piece of homemade lasagne. I nodded, most of my concentration on the food being placed in front of me. She may be a real witch sometimes, but Mom really was an excellent cook.<p>

She was a slim, battered sort of woman and I was so used to seeing her in mucky overalls that if she were dressed up smartly I probably wouldn't recognise her. The short brown hair she mostly kept tied up did not yet show signs of greying.

Across the table from me, Dad was engrossed in today's newspaper. The huge headline on the front screamed at me in bold letters:

"NEW YORK GANG TURNS THEMSELVES INTO THE POLICE AFTER A $10 MILLION BANK ROBBERY"

"They really handed themselves in, Dad?" he looked up from the paper and frowned. Appearance wise I really did look nothing like him. Yet in personality we were fairly similar. We were both curious people, with a love for anything sci-fi. Though I think he was maybe a little more paranoid than was. I wonder how much he'd pay for aliens to come and make crop circles in our fields.

"Yeah, the police were totally blown away. They thought the whole thing was a joke until they actually took out the bags of money." He laughed to himself.

"But…why would they just confess?" I asked, perplexed. The thought that they would just _hand_ themselves in was simply bizarre. Mom walked into the room carrying two steaming plates of food for herself and Dad. He was just as much of a sucked to Mom's cooking as I was, so the conversation was dying quickly.

Dad shrugged and kept his eyes firmly on the food. "Guilty conscience I suppose."

"Chris!" Mom yelled up the stairs. This was probably the only way you could get a response out of my brother these days. I continued shovelling down my food as Chris trudged down the stairs moodily.

At seventeen, I was fairly sure Chris had "hooked up" with every attractive girl in his year, and probably a lot of girls who weren't in his year as well. He hated family affairs though; especially when Mom started fussing about him.

His hair, his clothes and his grades seemed to be her top priority this evening.

"Oh please just let me give it a quick trim, dear. Just so it doesn't keep getting in your eyes." She turned to her husband and Chris shot Dad a silent pleading look. "Back me up here Rick!" Dad was reading his paper with a little too much concentration to be authentic. "_Rick_?" He sighed and put the newspaper down; with time Dad's hairline had receded back, but still kept its old light shade however in the dim glow of the kitchen it looked darker than normal.

"Does it really matter how long his hair is Sue? Anyway while we're all here I might as well tell you; I'm going into Columbus for a few days. The guy who sells us the corn seeds died and I need to go sort out our orders with the company that took over the business. I won't be gone longer than a few days."

Mom put her fork down with a clatter and frowned at Dad. "Rick, Liam's coming home from New York tomorrow! You can't just drop everything and go to Columbus. Don't you want to see your son?" Dad replied back to her with as much vigour as she had to him but I didn't want to hang around and listen.

Picking up my empty plate, I put it on the side counter quickly, eager to avoid Mom and Dad's fighting; they didn't fight often but when they did, they really went at each other. I slipped up the old wooden stairs, closely followed by Chris who seemed impatient to get to his room.

"Night Chris." I murmured before stepping into my own room. He gave no reply and slammed his door loudly. I didn't flinch. I was used to being ignored by him now.

Back when we were younger and Liam was still at home, Chris and I still didn't particularly get along very well. But big brother Liam was always there to smooth things out when we got into a particularly loud fight.

We didn't fight anymore though. Chris simply ignored me. I wasn't bothered too much by this fact; since it was better than shouting at each other. However it would be nice if he acknowledged my presence once in a while, even if I was his stupid kid sister. I can't remember the last time I had a conversation with him that lasted more than thirty seconds.

Liam was coming home tomorrow though. At least I had that to look forward to. Despite my youngest brother's indignation towards me, Liam and I got along very well. Liam got along with everyone. It was like when he was home, the whole house could relax again; even my parents fought less when he was here.

Climbing into bed, I refused to think about the math test that I hadn't even bothered to try and study for; or the raised voices downstairs of my parents arguing – God knows what about. I forced myself into a deep, restful slumber, preparing me for the day ahead.

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><p>School the next day was and strange. Mom and Dad had resolved their last night argument as normal and Chris ignored me as we drove to school. Mom insisted that we only take one car to school to save on gas prices; obviously Chris wouldn't be seen dead in my ancient truck so we rode in his car.<p>

I got fifty two per cent on my math paper – I wasn't surprised and received a ton of homework from my insane Math teacher Miss Salter. However only when I reached my sixth period History class did I notice anything out of the ordinary.

Okay, so I'm not usually late for class. But I'd forgotten a book I was supposed to return to the library and it was closing early this week. And because of my inability to remember return dates I was late to History. By the time I'd sprinted down the corridor to the classroom, I was already ten minutes late and sweating like a fat kid in McDonalds (not a pretty sight). I was_ so_ dead. My teacher Mr Beale got angry at the smallest things; so this would surely agitate him.

Stalling, I took a few deep breaths before quietly slipping into the classroom. Luckily, Mr Beale had not started his lecture yet, so it was not deadly silent. But I was still not out of the water. I kept my eyes focused on my seat next to the window and moved quickly.

"Miss Price." Mr Beale's cold drawl echoed across the classroom and the chattering quickly died away. I stood frozen, inches away from my seat. "Why are you late, Caroline?"

I turned awkwardly so I was facing him and mumbled my excuse:

"I h-had to return a book to the library." Then hastily added an apology on the end. "Sorry."

I stood tensed, waiting for his reaction. My classmates were no longer talking and were fixed intently on Mr Beale, waiting for his explosion.

But no explosion came.

"I see," he replied. "No harm done Caroline, hurry up and get to your seat."

I could only stand there and stare flabbergasted at Mr Beale's response. His face – normally red with anger – was calm and relaxed.

I quickly staggered to my seat and dumped my books on the table. Since when was Mr Beale so chilled out? Maybe he'd got himself a girlfriend? I seriously doubted that.

And that was the moment I finally saw Mr Beale's eyes.

They were still the same dull brown that they had always been, but with a significant change; around the black dot of his pupil was a reflective silver circle. I'd never seen anything quite like it.

Could it be fancy contacts? I wondered, but then on second thoughts, Mr Beale with his faded maroon ties and moth-eaten jackets couldn't bring himself to do anything _cool_. So fancy contacts were out of the question.

The mystery of Mr Beale'e eyes, kept me interested for the remainder of the lesson and stayed on my mind as I leaned against the passenger door of Chris's car waiting for him. But as home came into sight and I saw the familiar red Volvo in the driveway, all thoughts for Mr Beale slipped my mind.

Liam was home.

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><p><strong>Hope it was OK. Please review :D<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hey, so I'm updating this story a little quicker than I would normally update a story because I have this chapter sorted and ready. Hope you enjoy it and please review!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of this world, only the characters are mine :)**

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><p><strong>Chapter 2 - Homecoming<strong>

"Liam," I shouted, running towards him and flinging myself into his arms, laughing. "You're home!" He caught me and I clung to him, inhaling the scent of his jacket. Words can't describe how much I'd missed him.

"Nice to see you too, Carrie. You haven't changed much, still as small as always." I grimaced at him while he clapped his hand on Chris's back and they hugged. It was a running joke between him and Chris that I couldn't possibly be their sister because I was so damn small compared to them. I wasn't that small really, it was just Liam and Chris were huge.

Unlike me, Liam had a heap of wispy golden hair which grew past his ears, pretty blue eyes and a broad smile showing bright straight teeth. He had almost lost the lankiness of his teenage years and was building more muscle around his arms and chest. Apart from this however, he was unchanged from the last time I saw him.

"So when's Dad making an appearance?" Liam asked as we walked into the house and were greeted by the mouth-watering smell of Mom's cooking. Chris answered before I could; he was a lot chattier when Liam was in the house and I think everyone was feeling the elation of having him home again.

"Dad's in Columbus doing some business, he should be back in a couple of days." He said.

We were all sat around the kitchen table waiting for Mom to bring out the food. He mouth turned down into a grimace for a few seconds before brightening up again.

"Never mind, I'm sure I'll catch him before I go back to New York. So Chris have you got any acceptance letters yet?"

Before he could answer Mom came bustling in with her arms full of steaming plates:

"He sure has got some acceptance letters!" said Mom, as she set the plates down on the table. "One of my sons is studying medicine and one of my sons is going to be studying Law." She said excitedly. "It's a mother's dream."

We all dug into our food and Liam turned to me. "What about you Carrie? Got any plans for college yet?" I shook my head. I had no idea what I was going to do after high school. College was an option; but with two older brothers already in college there probably wouldn't be a lot of money left for me.

"Not yet." I replied. "It all seems too far away right now."

"Awww." Crooned Liam, "It only seems like months ago that you were running naked around the house screaming for ice-cream. And now you're thinking about college." I bumped him with my shoulder a little harder than I had planned.

The rest of the evening we spent in our little sitting room next to the real wood burning fire. It was the most relaxed I had been in ages. I wish Dad had been there, and then it would have been a proper family night.

Mom insisted that we played Charades together. In the end Chris won, he was the best at guessing. I went to bed feeling a lot happier than I had in a while; wishing Liam would stay longer than just three days. Who cared about college really, we needed him more.

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><p>I'd convinced myself not to think about Mr Beale's eyes or strange behaviour the next day when I walked into History, but this was easier said than done. By fourth period I'd counted two more people who were sporting these strange new eyes.<p>

The first person I noticed to be acting differently was Peter "The Hulk" Francis, a particularly ferocious bully in my year. Peter had never been the most academic of people; usually because he was busy sticking kids heads down the toilet instead of doing homework. However in this past week his grades had leaped from an F to a B. His teachers were perplexed, as well as everyone else.

Everyone seemed to have noticed Peter's drastic behaviour change, and I couldn't help but wonder what would possess him to do so. Many people had confronted him – particularly his thug friends – but he simply shrugged it off saying that his parents wanted him to do better in school.

I was sat two desks away from him in Spanish when I realised his eyes were different. Whilst trying to listen to what the teacher was saying and furiously scribbling down her lecture I'd mostly kept my head down all lesson so when I was paired up with Charlie I got my first look at him.

He smiled at me while we had a conversation in Spanish; it was freakishly unlike the usual menacing glare he would give anybody who stood in a close proximity of him. But his eyes really did trouble me. Once again that reflective silver band around the pupil shimmered in my direction. Why had nobody noticed this?

We talked about simple mundane things in our basic Spanish: the weather, family etc. However the subtle differences about him were endless. Since when could he speak Spanish so fluently? Since when did he turn up to the lesson on time, and with all the necessary equipment?

We all kept quiet about Peter's behaviour change. Somehow it felt like a taboo to talk about it; who would end up with the silver eye's next?

It only took me an hour before that question was answered. At lunch a girl named Stephanie – who shared the lunch table I sat at with about ten others –came late from her maths lesson. Stephanie wasn't a particular friend of mine but we tended to hang around with the same crowd of people and we got along fairly well.

She was a quiet sort of girl, with long mousy brown hair and a face full of freckles. Not really one to stand out from the crowd, she seemed to keep her head down, similar to myself. But as she dropped into her usual seat, I wasn't the only one to notice something was different.

"What a beautiful day it is today." She said, and we all stared at her eyebrows raised. Everyone could hear the heavy rain hammering on the roof of the cafeteria.

"Steph…" said her friend Quinn cautiously. "Have you seen the rain?" Stephanie turned face her but didn't quite focus on her face. She didn't seem to be focusing on anything.

"And Steph and since when did you get contacts? They look weird." Pushed Quinn and he waved his fingers in front of her. This made me snap to attention and I focused in on her eyes. Just like Mr Beale and Peter Francis, Stephanie's eyes had the reflective silver bands.

Could it be drugs? I'd never heard of a drug that altered the colour of your eyes but what other reason was there? I'd considered contacts, but there was no tell-tale thin film around the eye as far as I could see.

"I didn't get contacts Quinn. These are my eyes now." I wasn't the only one who was listening to them now. But Stephanie had started eating her food and even Quinn couldn't coax anything out of her.

She didn't say anything else for the rest of the lunch break, but at frequent intervals she would sometimes look at the window or a blank wall and let out a small giggle.

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><p>I lay on my bed, head facing the celling. Trying to persuade myself against what I was going to do with no avail. Sighing, my hands reached out and pressed the button of my out-dated desktop computer. It whirred to life and I slowly sat up and took a seat on the chair at my desk.<p>

Finally when the computer had switched on and the internet I had loaded I took a deep breath and started typing into the search engine:

_Silver band around pupil_.

The first website that came up was a paranormal blog. I clicked on it feeling sceptical.

"Have you noticed a change in your friends of loved ones? Have they expressed the importance of moral values perhaps, when before they had none?"

My mind jumped immediately to Peter Francis and his drastic change in behaviour so I continued reading, anticipation what it would say next.

"Does your friend or loved one now have a hint of reflective silver around their pupil when there once was none? Then you may have reason to believe that this person's body had been infiltrated by an intelligent being not native to this planet.

Keep on your guard and don't trust anyone who you may suspect to have been infected. Never under any circumstances, find yourself alone with one because once they make you one of them there is no going back. Good luck."

I couldn't help but laugh at myself once I'd read the blog. Here I was, at sixteen years old, sat alone in my bedroom, researching the paranormal. How sad could I get?

I swivelled round in my chair to face the wall mirror and eyed my face critically. I wasn't ugly, but I lacked the certain perfection that made a face beautiful. My own light blue eyes had no circle around the pupil and were framed by a thin layer of dark lashes. The same dark brown that coloured my eyelashes coloured my hair which fell from the crown of my head down to my shoulder blades. My skin was a crisp golden brown which stayed throughout the year as a result of working on the farm from an early age.

"Carrie?" Liam shouted up the stairs. "You wanna play baseball?" I jumped at Liam's interruption of my thoughts but nevertheless, climbed from out of my seat and walked down the stairs. I'd never really liked baseball, but it would stop me from thinking too much about aliens and idiotic rumours.

Leaving the back door wide open, I sighed happily as I walked through the fields basking in the beautiful summer sunset.

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><p><strong>Reviews would be appreciated :D<strong>


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